IllTempered Child
by Fictatious
Summary: SPOILERS! Owen Burnett receives a visit from his previous employer and gives his formal resignation.


Er, well, the statute of limitations on **spoilers** is probably well passed for this series, but I know at least one of my regular readers has expressed both an interest in the series and that she hasn't yet watched it through, so I'll put up warning here. **Spoilers** for Owen Burnett and the end of the Avalon arc are contained here-in. Probably the only **spoilers** the series has to offer, really.

000

000

David glanced up at the rattle of a pill-bottle. He paused, letting the line of code he'd been writing hang as he watched Owen skillfully extract a morphine tablet one-handed and slip the bottle back into the pocket of his blazer. He tucked the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry, and pulled out his day-planner to make a note of the time, as he did without fail every time he took a dose. Doctor Finch had said that Owen was the kind of patient doctors dreamed of.

"Have you made any progress on finding a way to revert the effects of the Cauldron?" David asked in a casual tone.

"No," Owen answered in his usual monotone, as always seeming completely ambivalent to his bad hand. "I rather doubt that a mystical cure exists. I've never heard of anything."

"Did you know what the effect of the Cauldron was going to be?" David asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Mister Xanatos."

"Then so long as there remain things in this world that you're ignorant of, there's still hope," David noted. "Still, an answer may be found on more modern terms. I've been reviewing my notes from creating Cold Stone. Gargoyle skin was used to create the spell, so I find it likely that the principles on which the organic-to-mineral conversion operate are the same."

"Likely," Owen agreed. "Although I'd hate to think you're taking time away from more interesting projects to work on one that we've already established to be a failure."

"Nonsense," David waved his hand dismissively. "The mechanisms by which gargoyles can change the state of their matter has always fascinated me."

"Of course, Sir."

"In any event, I'd like you to review this macro when I've finished. It should increase the efficiency on the cybernetic uplink in my exo-suit," David said, returning his eyes to the screen in front of him. "I'm hoping to fine-tune the speed controls to be more-"

He broke off and looked up sharply at the sound of his door opening without a knock. There weren't many people who felt at liberty to waltz into his office uninvited. There was Fox and... well, there was only Fox, really. And the person currently entering David Xanatos' office without invitation or announcement was definitely not Fox. A surge of anger tried to find a foothold in him as he recognized the face, but David quickly stowed it away and glanced to Owen.

Owen's eyes might have narrowed very slightly and his jaw might have tightened just a fraction.

David turned his eyes back to the man striding confidently towards them as though everything his optical nerves captured belonged to him. To most people's eyes he would have appeared like a very ordinary-looking middle-aged man, but David was fast to remember that face, which he'd seen only for a few moments before it transformed into a far more alien one, from the night his son was born.

"Lord Oberon," David greeted in a cheerful voice, carefully arranging a smirk on his face. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm not here for you, human," the Fairy King replied dismissively, not even bothering to look at David. He stopped in front of Owen, looking down his nose with the airs of someone considering an ugly and yappy dog. "Puck, a word," he said, his voice intolerably aristocratic.

Owen glanced to David, lifting an eyebrow. David shrugged. "It's fine. This won't be ready for proof-reading for a while."

"Yes, Sir." Owen nodded and then turned and started towards the door that connected David's office with the adjoining board-room. He didn't make eye-contact with Oberon, he merely said, "This way, My Lord."

David maintained his smirk until the door closed behind them, but it dropped the moment the latch clicked back into place. He gave the back of the door a solid glare before reaching into his pocket to pull out his cellular phone. He pressed the speed-dial and held it to his ear.

"Hey, Baby, anything fun happening?" a velvety voice asked when the line picked up.

"Your step-father is here," David replied in a monotone.

There was a pause on the other end before Fox asked, "Where?"

"The board-room. He wanted to speak with Owen."

"... I'm coming down there," Fox announced.

"Do you have Alexander with you?" David asked.

"I'm not putting him down for a _second_ until that man is gone."

"Good."

000

"There's something you wished to discuss?" Owen asked neutrally, turning to face Oberon.

"Yes. I've slept on it," Oberon said with a nod. The statement might have seemed slightly ridiculous, considering it had been a month since the altercation had occurred, but Owen knew that little more than a day would have passed on Avalon. "I've decided I'm ready to hear your apology," Oberon announced and crossed his arms, waiting.

Owen stared levelly back at him, silent for a few moments before replying. "I've slept on it as well. I've decided I won't be giving one."

Fury flashed across Oberon's face and he stood up straighter, dropping his arms. "Insolent! I'll have no more of your games, Puck!"

"Owen Burnett," Owen corrected. "Puck no longer exists. You saw to that."

Oberon snarled, his teeth gritting together. "That is _enough!_" he snapped. "I've no patience for your insubordination! If you _ever_ wish to return to Avalon, you will stop this mockery at once and _beg_ my forgiveness!"

"You've already decreed that the Puck will not return to Avalon, My Lord," Owen reminded him. "But then, your decrees always were meaningless, weren't they?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not bound to your word like the rest of us and you've only ever kept it when convenient. Your oath has no value and everyone knows it."

"How _dare_ you!" Oberon seemed to be truly shocked by Owen's candor. "You will _not_ speak to me thusly!"

"No. I suppose no one will," Owen agreed flatly. "That's probably why you act like such a spoiled child."

Oberon gaped, clearly too shocked to react.

"Catering to the whims of a capricious narcissist is an occupation I've no qualms with," Owen filled the silence. "But being the slave of an ill-tempered infant, prone to frequent tantrums, I have found to be quite tiring." Owen let a small smirk grace his lips. "Of course, Alexander has been a perfect angel since his arrival."

"..._You dare...?_" Oberon was visibly seething and his stature had gained by a foot. He darted forward suddenly. Owen became aware of the Fairy King's revised position by the pressure on his throat before his eye had managed to track the movement. "You stand there _insulting_ your _Lord and King_ as though you would enjoy some _immunity_ from my _wrath?_"

Owen's feet hung inches above the floor as Oberon's hand suspended him from the neck like a noose, growing ever tighter. He no longer had breath with which to make a reply so he simply formed the shape of the world 'child' on his lips with great exaggeration.

Oberon roared.

000

"I don't like this," Fox commented quietly, her arms wrapped around the sling she was carrying Alexander in. "I don't want him here."

"Neither do I, but I think attempting to bar him entry would have been construed as rather insulting, and we can't weather another assault right now," David replied, pretending to be interested in the programming code in front of him. "We were protected by nine months of Owen's best preparations before, and we've had less than _one_ to recover from the attack. I'd rather keep things civil, if possible, for the time being."

"Civil my ass," Fox growled. Alexander made small fussing noises, upset by his mother's distress.

"Owen can handle him," David said, his voice confident.

"_Puck_ couldn't handle him!" Fox protested, casting a glare at her husband. "What makes you think _Owen_ can?"

"... Because _Owen_ isn't afraid of him," David answered.

"Well maybe he should be," Fox said darkly. "He's more vulnerable now than he ever was before."

"I'm not about to underestimate the power of confidence," David replied with a shrug and reached into the top right drawer of his desk. "But I have always felt it best to be prepared," he said, pulling out a desert eagle and laying it down next to his computer.

Fox eyed the gun silently for a moment before asking, "Does that have the new rounds?"

"Of course." David nodded.

Fox started to smirk but it turned to a scowl halfway through as muffled shouting could be heard from the boardroom. "He's got quite a temper on him," she growled.

"Don't I know it," David agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I still have whiplash."

Fox gazed uneasily at the door, hugging Alexander tightly. "I don't like this," she reiterated.

"I know, but-" David started but broke off as a roar, which sounded more like an animal than a man, emanated from the boardroom. The sound was followed by a loud thump. A chill ran down David's spine and he sprung to his feet, grabbing the pistol off his desk.

Fox was hot on his heals as David reached the boardroom door and wrenched it open. Inside, the Fairy King was standing amid a mess of overturned chairs and tables and glaring towards a crumpled figure laying against the base of the wall. David's eyes widened as he took in first the lack of movement and then the slowly spreading shadow of blood soaking into the carpet around the fallen body.

"_Owen!_" Fox screamed, rushing forward as Oberon's glare turned on them.

David didn't quite recall lifting his arm before he found himself firing off eight rounds of custom-made, low-velocity iron bullets into the Fairy King's chest. Oberon fell backwards with a strangled cry and David ran a few feet to put himself between Oberon and his family, still pointing the gun at him as though there were a round left in it, though he knew otherwise.

"Owen, oh God, _Owen_..." Fox's voice was breaking in a way rarely ever heard, and David couldn't stop himself from taking his eyes off of Oberon, who was still moving and very much alive, to glance behind him.

The blood, he realized, was coming from the stump of Owen's arm. The fragile connection between bone and mineral must have shattered during his impact with the wall, and the flesh had torn away from the stone almost cleanly. Fox was kneeling next to Owen and digging in his pocket. She pulled out the bottle of morphine tablets and fumbled it open. "Don't worry. We can fix this. Just relax," she was saying. "Here, that's got to hurt." She held a tablet to Owen's lips.

"It's fine, Fox," Owen slurred quietly. "I don't feel a thing..." A quiet dread started to creep its way up David's spine then, but his blood ran cold at Owen's next words. "I think... my neck is broken."

David found himself pulling the pistol's trigger uselessly and cursing himself for not having another clip as he glared at Oberon, who was shuddering and picking the iron bullets out of himself one at a time, unable to move them with magic.

"Shhh," Fox whispered. "It's going to be fine. We can fix this," her voice was starting to sound congested and desperate. She'd taken off her belt and was trying to cinch it into a tunicate around Owen's arm. Alexander had started wailing.

Oberon glared across the room at them, finally pulling the last bullet out between his blood-coated fingers. There was a vague disquiet mixed in with the anger on his face and after a moment he snarled. "What's wrong with you, Puck? Do you mean to just-"

"_He's dying, you stupid bastard!_" David shouted.

A startled look overcame the Fairy King's features and his mouth snapped shut.

"Mister Xanatos, please don't provoke him..." Owen mumbled from the floor. David turned back to look at him again and he could see Owen's eyes were turned up towards him, even as his face lay in the blood-dampened carpet. "It has been a true pleasure serving you, sir," he said weakly, a slight smirk showing. His eyes dropped, not quite focusing on Fox. "Fox, I hvff luwnns..." he trailed off into slurry whispers, his eyelids drooping.

"Owen?_ Owen?_" Fox called, leaning forward and grabbing his shoulder, but not shaking.

"Stay with us, Owen. Keep talking," David ordered, dropping down next to them, the malevolent deity in the room all but forgotten. He whipped out his cellular phone and started mashing buttons, scrolling through the contacts to find the direct line to emergency medical services.

As he was scrolling through the Es, the tiny screen was drown in a much brighter glow and David looked up to see Owen's body convulsing and lifting a few inches off the floor as he emitted a pale, green light. Owen's eyes and gaping mouth glowed like a jack-o-lantern and David bit down on his tongue as he watched the glowing eyes widen and elongate, long, white hair whipping around in the magical currents. David turned to look at Oberon, who had a glowing hand extended towards them, his own eyes luminessing the same green.

The light dissipated as suddenly as it had come and Puck's small frame dropped softly to the carpet, which bore no evidence of ever being stained with blood. His eyes were still wide open, but the glow had been replaced with ethereal blue eyes, blinked rapidly, a shaken expression on the trickster's narrow face.

"Owen..." David whispered, deflating slightly with relief.

Puck's eyes focused on him for just a moment before his head snapped to the side and his gaze fell on the Fairy King. He was silent for a few seconds before hissing, "You just couldn't stand the thought of taking responsibility, could you?"

Oberon looked thoroughly taken aback and, after a moment, a flash of anger came back across his face. He'd just started to open his mouth to speak when Puck cut him off. "You're _pathetic_," he snarled.

Startled anger turned to fury in Oberon's features and he was on his feet, glaring haughtily and speaking through clenched teeth. "How _dare_ you-"

"_Wanna hit me again?_" Puck shouted, pushing himself into the air and flinging his arms wide. "I won't break nearly so easy now! You can _really_ get your anger out!" He laughed through a cruelly manic grin.

"Owen, _stop_," Fox whispered, her eyes darting between the diminutive sprite and the Fairy King.

"Fox," David hushed, shifting towards his wife and child, pulling them close.

"Go on, my _Lord!_" Puck declared loudly, wild energy curling around him, filling the room with a sensation of unrestrained power, like the crackle of static electricity. "Throw yet another _petty tantrum!_ Show me how _wrong_ I am for doubting your _maturity_, oh magnificent _sovereign_ of mine!"

There was another flash of light, this one lasted only a split second, and Oberon was gone. Puck hung in the air as the crackling faded, leaving behind only Alexander's pitiful wails, before he started to slowly succumb to the laws of physics and sink back down towards the floor, panting.

"S-sorry," he said in a slightly wavering voice. "That was probably uncalled for."

"I think it was completely called for," David replied, reaching out and squeezing Puck's narrow shoulder, he received a tired but very genuine smile in response.

"Well, I think I've had enough high-testosterone bullshit for one day," Fox sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'd really appreciate it if nobody else gets themselves maimed or killed for the rest of the evening."

"Dear me, Fox, has motherhood claimed your sense of adventure?" David asked with a smirk.

Fox snorted and laid a hand against Puck's back. "How do you feel, Owen?" she asked.

"Fine," Puck said and then laughed softly. "I feel _fine._ Oh does that feel _good_." He let out a puff of a sigh and slumped back against Fox. "Tired though... That's annoying," he mumbled, leaning his head on her shoulder and looking down at Alexander for a moment before lifting a slender hand to ruffle the tennis-ball fuzz on his head.

"I think you have a pretty good excuse," David chuckled, watching Puck's arm drop and his eyelids slowly drift shut. "I'll give you the night off."

"S'pose I may as well use my sick-time," Puck mumbled.

"I think you have more than a month of it saved up."

"Nah... I'll be in first thin' 'n t' mrnin..."

Fox laughed softly, relief clear in her voice, and rested her cheek against the crown of Puck's head, before David slid his arms around the fairy. He was light; admittedly, Puck was small, even for a fairy, but while he looked about ninety pounds, he felt closer to fifty as David carefully lifted him off the floor. Puck made no more response but to lean slightly into David's shoulder, apparently already asleep.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that we won't be seeing him again," Fox said with a sigh, climbing to her own feet, one arm cradled under Alexander's sling.

"I think that would be a long shot," David agreed, shouldering past the door back out into his office, rather than attempt to navigate the mess of overturned furniture to get to the hallway door. "I've had the impression that Puck was somewhat of a favored subject to him. I think Oberon might not be inclined to let this go."

Fox let out a bitter huff, following her husband through his office and out to the elevators that lead up to the living part of the tower. "Well, he'd better at least stay away longer this time."

"One can hope," David agreed.

000

000

So I've been re-watching Gargoyles lately, and mind, I haven't watched this show since I was ten or something. So, y'know when you're watching these 'srs business' cartoons when you're a little tot, and you just kind of accept the established authority figures as being right because they're the established authority figures? And then you go back and watch your cartoons when you're older and you suddenly realize, 'wait, these guys are a bunch of _ass-holes!_' I was truly perturbed to realize that Professor X is a total douche-bag. Not the movie-version of Prof, Patrick Stuart did a pretty good job of redeeming that part, but the Professor X in the comics and cartoons? _Total_ douche-bag. And watching Oberon here? Oh my gosh, that guy doesn't just have a stick up his ass, he's a power-crazed three-year-old! Xanatos is still pretty darn rockin' though. Well done, Jonathan Frakes, you've made a villain/anti-hero I can still respect fifteen years later. Well done.

This fic goes out to Elfy, who unwittingly provided the spark of inspiration for it. Happy late-birthday.

Oh, and BTW, for those who have been writing me frantic messages the past couple months, no I haven't jumped fandom, my YGO fics are still underway, I just have so little time or energy to write anymore and I hit a bit of writer's block with Invisible. Don't worry, I'm almost ready to post the next chapter.


End file.
